All Hallows' Eve
by Fear The Pika
Summary: What happens when man murders his ex-girlfriend on Halloween, the creepiest night of the year?


Happy Halloween everyone! Here's a quick little one-shot, something creepy I hope. Enjoy.

* * *

**All Hallows' Eve **

Once. Twice. Thrice. He stabbed her, twice in the back and once in the shoulder, leaving the knife when he was done. There was nothing that could connect him to the knife, and it was Halloween. Blood stains could easily be passed off as fake, and he could wash them off by the time anyone realized that a murder had taken place. The body had to be hidden, but again, it was Halloween. What better place to hide it than in plain sight? He picked up the plastic bag of straw that he had brought with him, solely for this purpose. She was already wearing the scarecrow costume that he had requested she put on before he murdered her in cold blood, so no need to redress her, just stick the straw in the clothing to cover some of the wounds and it was done.

He dragged her out to the porch and set her in a corner, then he went home. The first trick-or-treaters were just coming out as he reached the door to his house, and so was the moon. He happened to catch a glimpse of it as it rose over the houses opposite his; it was an angry red color, as if it knew what he had done and was mad at him for it. He shook off the uncomfortable feeling that was creeping up his back, making the hairs on his neck rise. She had deserved to die. She had loved him, and he her. She had promised that they would be together, but then she left him. She had broken his heart, so he had stabbed hers. Or had he stabbed her heart? He couldn't remember. He had wanted to do it quickly without time for second thoughts, and he had done it quickly, but maybe perhaps too quickly?

The doorbell rang, making him jump. With a muttered curse he realized that his porch light was still on. Should he pretend that he wasn't home? No, a parent had already seen him through the window and was quieting her child. He would have to tell them that he didn't have any candy, anything else might seem suspicious. Or would being seen covered in blood be more suspicious? No, the parent had already seen the blood, she must have. It was dim in the room that he stood in, but not that dim. So with a smile that was the exact opposite of what he felt, the murderer opened the door to hand out candy to the ghost, dragon and pumpkin that were waiting on his doorstep. He sent them off with a "Happy Halloween", quickly turning off his porch light once they were gone.

He locked the door, using the deadbolt as well as the normal lock. He was the only one who had the keys now that she was dead. Nobody would get in unless they came in through the barred windows. He had prepared for this, making sure that the random burglar could not mess everything up. He was paranoid, yes, but his paranoia might very well save him. The remains of a fire were waiting for him in his fireplace, just as he had planned. He stirred up the coals, throwing a log on when he had made them glow like miniature suns. The log quickly caught, sending flickering shadows around the room. He undressed, burning his clothes, then he went and took a hot shower. His plan was perfect; he could not get caught as long as he stuck to the plan. He could lie to the Police when they came, not even a polygraph test would catch him. He had practiced for that.

He turned off the shower and grabbed a towel to dry himself off with. The hot water had steamed up the mirror and he had a desire to write his confession out in the steam. But no, that would be straying from the plan, and that might get him caught. Better to stick to the result of months of careful thought and painstakingly checking every detail. He wiped off the mirror with his towel, threw the towel aside, then stepped off the linoleum floor onto the thick carpet of his bedroom. He pulled on a pair of plaid boxer shorts before he flopped down onto his bed, not bothering to pull the sheets back. Sleep was long in coming, but he had expected that, his heart was still racing. But eventually it did come and blackness overtook his vision.

* * *

He awoke a couple hours later to a crash. Still half asleep, he had no way of telling if he had just dreamt it. He woke himself up the rest of the way and waited, alert and ready to hear the slightest sound. Nothing. He waited for five minutes. Still nothing. It had to be his imagination; no random burglar would be able to break in. Either that or some kids were pulling some sort of prank. Content with his explanation, the startled man started to drift back to sleep. But something roused him again. Was that the sound of wet feet slapping up the steps? No, he was just jumpy. But there it was again! The sound was steadily getting louder, getting closer. He told himself that it was all just a bad dream and that he should wake up now.

The footsteps drew closer, stopping just outside of his door. With a whimper, he got up, ready to close the door if he needed to. But he was too late. The door creaked open before he got there. He turned on the light, revealing the girl that he thought he had just murdered, knife still embedded in her shoulder, and she was holding the metal poker that went with his fireplace set.

"Boo."

With hatred in her eyes, blood dripping down her face and straw trailing behind her, she thrust the poker through his stomach, and then collapsed, still holding the handle. He fell, too, the room starting to spin around him. Smoke was rising up the steps, alerting him to a fire on the first floor. But the fire could not hurt him, nothing could. He watched as the flames jumped into the room, devouring the straw that had scattered. He felt the heat approaching him as he closed his eyes for the final time. And then there was blackness.


End file.
